


things we'll never see again

by taywen



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:28:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taywen/pseuds/taywen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Itachi eats ice cream with Kisame and remembers a hot summer afternoon in Konoha before the Kyuubi attack.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things we'll never see again

**Author's Note:**

> so I started writing this like two years ago and finished it today in a bout of looming-deadline-induced productivity :')))
> 
> title from Bastille's "Things We Lost in the Fire"!

“Itachi-san, let's stop for ice cream,” Kisame says, pointing at an ice cream shop further up the street from them.

It's little more than a hole in the wall - a small, family-run convenience store that really makes its business selling ice cream during the warmer months of the year.

Itachi's hands, hidden by the long sleeves of the Akatsuki uniform, curl into fists as he resists the urge to pull at the high collar of the cloak. Even in the summer months, he can't bring himself to do more than unbutton the dark garment halfway.

The thought of ice cream only makes him more aware of the sweat pooling at the small of his back, and how dry his mouth seems.

“All right,” he concedes, relaxing his fingers. “It certainly can't hurt.”

They lost the shinobi pursuing them miles ago; in a civilian city like this, Itachi and Kisame won't stand out overmuch. Most civilians don't know what the red clouds on their cloaks signify.

Kisame smiles, a brief flash of sharp teeth, and picks up his pace.

A small bell hangs above the doorway; it jingles merrily when Kisame pushes the door open. The interior is slightly cooler - there's no air conditioner, but several fans have been set up around the front area. Compared to the thick, still air outside the slight breeze is a great relief. Best of all, the place is deserted.

“Good afternoon!” a pleasant voice says, and a stout woman appears from the backroom, a slightly stained apron tied over her practical dress. Her gaze darts from the massive sword strapped to Kisame's back, to the headbands on their foreheads, but she doesn't otherwise react. “What can I get for you two gentlemen?”

“Ice cream,” Kisame says. “Do you have a menu?”

“Ah, of course.” She smiles and hands him a piece of white cardstock. “Just ring the bell when you're ready to order.” She gestures at the small, round bell sitting beside the register.

“Thank you,” Kisame says.

Itachi walks over, squinting in the poorly lit room. Sunlight spills through the front window, but it isn't quite enough for his failing eyes to properly make out the characters. The paper itself is worn, the edges soft from plenty of handling, and the once-pristine white has faded to a dingy grey with time. The list is extensive - Itachi's a little surprised at the variety of flavours.

“Is there cookie dough?” he asks, giving up. The number of flavours means that the print is rather small and he doesn't feel like straining his eyes or activating the Sharingan to read the list. This stop is supposed to be relaxing, not irritating.

“Hm... yes,” Kisame says; he must suspect that Itachi's eyesight is diminishing, though Itachi has never said as much. And he never questions when Itachi asks him to read or look at something. “Apparently you can get it on a cone or in a small cup.”

“I see,” Itachi says. “Have you decided what you're getting?”

“Yeah. You too?”

“Yes.”

Kisame calls the proprietor back and they place their orders. She falters for a moment after Itachi gives his, but doesn't say anything as she goes about assembling their cones.

“Thank you,” Itachi says when she hands his over.

“Have a good afternoon! You'll have to eat it quick in this weather,” the woman says, her chuckle sounding only a little forced.

The bell jingles as they leave, and Itachi finds himself blinking in the harsh sunlight once again.

“She's right, you know, you should eat that fast,” Kisame remarks.

Itachi glances at him, but his partner occupies himself with taking a large bite out of his chocolate ice cream. It is already melting in the heat, and Itachi ordered more than Kisame had.

“Not just because it's going to melt. If anyone sees you with a sprinkle-covered waffle cone topped with a scoop each of cookie dough, rainbow and mint ice cream, your reputation is going to be ruined, Itachi-san,” Kisame continues cheerfully.

Itachi doesn't bother gracing that with a reply. He likes sweet things, and there's nothing wrong with that. He could care less about his reputation.

They walk in companionable silence after that, scanning the street front for a likely place to stay for the evening.

“I suppose we'll be having dinner at a four-star restaurant later,” Itachi remarks, nonsensically, after they've finished their ice cream.

Kisame glances at him, confused. “Itachi-san?”

He blinks, dispelling the memories. “It's nothing, Kisame. A foolish memory.” Perhaps the heat is getting to him.

His partner nods, though he doesn't look terribly convinced. They're not all that close - though Kisame and Itachi get along a lot better than other pairs in the organization - and reminiscing about (or prying into) the past is not something that they do.

Still, when they settle into the latest rundown inn near the far edge of the city - it's cheap, and the owners never ask questions, especially not when they spy the slashed hitai-ate - Itachi finds himself dwelling on that hot summer afternoon twelve years ago.

* * *

Itachi was itching to pull at the high collar of his dark shirt - anything to let a hint of a breeze touch his sweaty, uncomfortable skin - but Father had told him to be on his best behaviour for the lunch. Well-behaved boys did not tug on their collars or fidget under the sweltering heat of the sun.

Though he was asleep, tucked safely in the child carrier on Mother's back, Sasuke's face was twitching like he was just about to cry. Itachi spent most of his free time simply watching his precious little brother, and although Sasuke was barely two months old, Itachi had already memorized all the strange expressions the boy made.

 _Even a baby can't sleep in this heat_ , Itachi thought, frowning slightly before remembering that shinobi (and more importantly _Uchiha_ ) did not broadcast their emotions. He focused not on the discomfort caused by the heat, but on his slow, steady footfalls. They were just a little bit faster than his mother's, but that was because, he thought, her legs were longer. She had to take fewer steps.

He wanted to hurry to the restaurant, but at the same time the thought of moving faster was very unpleasant. He couldn't imagine rushing around in this weather.

“Mikoto!”

The shout cut through the heat, sharp and swift.

Itachi looked up, startled to hear someone yelling his mother's name in the street.

A heavily pregnant woman with vibrant red hair - a softer red than the brief glimpses Itachi had seen of the Sharingan; he found the colour much nicer - was waving frantically from the entrance of the restaurant. At her side stood a man who was familiar to Itachi despite the fact that he was certain he had never actually _seen_ the man before.

Then he realized that that was the _Hokage_ standing beside the woman (who could only be Uzumaki Kushina, whom they were supposed to be meeting for lunch). Itachi recognized the man because he saw his face carved into the cliff nearly every day.

“Good afternoon, Kushina, Hokage-sama! I'm not late, am I?” Mother asked, smiling.

“Ahaha, of course not. And please, just call me Minato, Mikoto... Just because I'm the Hokage now doesn't mean I'm a stranger!” the Hokage said.

“Whatever, let's just go inside! It's too hot out here,” Kushina complained, tugging at the collar of her shirt.

Itachi tried not to stare.

“And you must be Itachi-kun!” the Hokage said, turning a dazzling smile to Itachi.

“Hai. It's an honour to meet you, Hokage-sama.” Itachi bowed, exactly as Father had taught him to. “And you, Uzumaki-san.”

“So polite!” Kushina sounded disgruntled. “Just call me Kushina, squirt. And this is Minato, of course.”

At a loss, Itachi simply nodded. This was not how introductions were supposed to go. Then again, the Hokage was not from any clan of note. But the Uzumaki had once been a great clan...

The mystery kept Itachi occupied as they were led to a table near the back of the establishment. There were five chairs (and Sasuke's highchair, of course) but only four people. Itachi stared at the empty seat between himself and Minato, wondering why it was there.

“Sasuke-kun must be a month old now,” Minato remarked, once everyone had settled in.

“That’s right,” Mother agreed, smiling. “Itachi has been such a responsible aniki to him as well.”

Itachi bowed his head when the adults all turned to look at him and resisted the urge to kick his feet; the chairs were high enough that his feet didn’t reach the floor, but he had to act in a manner befitting the Uchiha name.

“Well, he’s really cute. Probably our kid will only be a little bit cuter,” Kushina declared.

“No,” Itachi said without thinking, “ototo is the cutest.”

After a moment of silence, Mother gave a soft chuckle that was nearly drowned out by Kushina’s uproarious laughter. Minato was smiling too, so Itachi supposed it wasn’t too rude of a thing to say. All the same, he would comport himself with more dignity now.

“You’re pretty cute yourself, Itachi-kun,” Kushina told him.

Itachi nodded, his standard response to such declarations. Her motive seemed different than most of the people who said so, though: his extended family tried to use it to put him down, an insult hidden in a seeming compliment; and for those outside the clan – not that he had much contact with them – it was a way to try to avoid thinking about his elite status.

The server arrived then and politely took their order for beverages; a lull in the conversation fell, interrupted by another person approaching their table.

“Sorry I'm late,” the lanky teen said, though he didn't sound particularly apologetic. In fact, he didn't sound like he was even making an effort to pretend to be apologetic. Itachi couldn't help studying him with great curiosity. “I got lost on the road of life.”

Nearly his entire face was covered; a face mask covered the lower portion of his face, and a headband was pulled down over his left eye. All Itachi could see was his right eye.

“It's good to see you again, Kakashi-kun,” Mother said politely. “You've grown a lot since we last met.”

The teen (Kakashi?) nodded. “It's been about two years,” he remarked.

Silence descended on the table, broken only by the scrape of the chair's legs as Kakashi pulled it out to sit down.

“Ah, so, Itachi-kun, how old are you now?” Minato asked, though his smile seemed strained.

“Five, Minato-san,” Itachi answered dutifully. Then, because he was speaking to the Hokage, the man who would eventually become his commanding officer, Itachi added, “I will enter the Academy next year.”

“I'm sure you'll be a credit to the Uchiha, and Konoha,” Minato told him; Itachi detected a bit of condescension, but it was only to be expected from an adult. And it was far less so than Itachi was accustomed to.

He smiled at Minato, because it was important to smile when someone gave you a compliment. “Thank you, Minato-san.”

Beside him, Mother and Kushina were making small talk - Itachi listened with half an ear, though he didn't recognize half the names of the people that they were discussing.

“Five, huh?” Kakashi put in, idly flipping through the menu. “I was already a genin when I was five, Itachi-kun.”

Itachi turned to him. “Is that so?” he inquired politely. Something was niggling at the back of his mind, like a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite remember.

“Yeah. I was on the same genin team as your cousin.”

Itachi blinked. His older cousins had no time for a little boy, heir or not; they never spoke to him about their careers as shinobi, and he couldn't have named any of their teammates if he had tried.

“Kakashi, are you ready to order?” Minato cut in, that same strained smile on his face.

“Sure. I'll have whatever you're having, sensei.”

Sensei?

Itachi glanced between the two of them, unable to discern what the look Minato was sending Kakashi meant.

... The Hokage was Kakashi's sensei.

He remembered why Kakashi's declaration had sounded familiar. It wasn't often a five year old was made a genin; in fact, it had only happened once. A prodigy by the name of Hatake Kakashi rose through the ranks at an unprecedented rate, earning a promotion to chuunin at six and making jounin at thirteen.

Just after that, Itachi's cousin, Obito, fell in the field. He was a disgrace to the Uchiha in numerous ways; merely average where an Uchiha was exceptional, too boisterous for the clan's reserved traditions.

And he had committed a betrayal that was, perhaps, only slightly less heinous than Madara's defection: he'd given his newly-activated Sharingan to his genius teammate, Hatake Kakashi.

That was just his father's opinion, though. Itachi had seen enough, in his mere five years, to realize that his father was not all-knowing. He was rather fallible, actually, and had a short temper. With a few seemingly meek words, Mother could manipulate him like a puppet in most matters.

That was why Itachi didn't trust words. Facts could be twisted, or they could just be lies entirely. It was better to observe things, to see them with one's own eyes, so that no one could distort the truth.

Was Obito a traitor? Itachi wasn't sure. His Sharingan was still being used in service to Konoha; in that way, it was almost as if he was helping the village beyond the grave. How many shinobi could claim that? Konoha's clans made the village strong; but it was Konoha that held the clans together. Without the village, there would be war between the various clans.

Surely it was better, then, that Obito had entrusted his teammate with his Sharingan, rather than risking it falling into Iwa's hands.

“-Itachi?”

Itachi blinked, turning to the person who had addressed him: Mother. The whole table was looking at him expectantly, as was the server. The young woman had a pad and pen in hand, ready to write down his order - she must have walked up while Itachi was thinking.

“I'll have what Mother is having,” Itachi said.

As the server went to give their order to the kitchen, Sasuke took the opportunity to wake with a soft, disconsolate cry. He blinked his dark eyes at the unfamiliar surroundings, then settled his gaze on Mother and Itachi. Itachi smiled at him.

“Ok,” Kushina conceded, “he _is_ pretty cute.”

“All babies look the same,” Kakashi said. “No offense, Mikoto-san.”

“I suppose they do to the young,” Mother said easily, though Itachi did not think that Sasuke looked anything like the other little cousins, or the babies he saw at the park when he accompanied Mother.

“First of all, you’re wrong,” Kushina told Kakashi, and he spent the next five minutes being harangued on the subject as Minato and Mother looked on with amusement.

Finally, Mother diverted Kushina with a question about the baby’s nursery, the discussion of which lasted until their food arrived.

Itachi listened patiently as the adults spoke over the meal, occasionally answering a question that Minato or Kushina posed to him, or contributing to one of Mother’s anecdotes. Kakashi said little, though he answered anything directed to him.

“Ah,” Minato said ruefully, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Duty calls. We’ll have to do this again sometime, Mikoto.”

“Yeah, we do!” Kushina said, looking at Mother intently.

“I look forward to it,” Mother agreed, smiling, which seemed to satisfy her friend, for she turned back to Minato.

“See ya later,” Kushina said, then pulled her husband down by the collar of his coat to kiss him full on the mouth.

Mother coughed politely, amused, and Kakashi scoffed under his breath. Itachi blinked: Mother and Father were never so public with their affections.

He watched as Minato made his way to the front and settled the bill, then departed with a last wave in their direction.

The rest of them prepared to leave a few minutes later, Mother remarking that it was nearly time for Sasuke’s nap. He had been very well behaved during the meal, though his expression was starting to pinch with tiredness again, Itachi noticed as they made their way to the front door.

The interior of the restaurant had been pleasantly cool; walking back into the thick heat outside made Itachi grimace. He could have sworn he felt his shirt start sticking to his skin, although it must have been impossible for him to start sweating that quickly.

Beside him, Kakashi shaded his eye, squinting in the sunlight. Itachi couldn't imagine wearing that facemask in this weather, but at least he wasn't wearing the heavy flak vest or the dark uniform that most of the upper level shinobi adopted.

“Hey, let's go for ice cream,” Kushina said suddenly, flapping a hand in a futile attempt to fan herself. Itachi could understand the sentiment and probably would have copied her, had he not been certain that fanning oneself probably fell into the category of fidgeting.

“So soon after lunch?” Mother asked, glancing over at her friend.

“Helps with digestion, I'm sure,” Kushina declared. Her hand shot out with surprising speed, catching one of the straps on Kakashi's breastplate. “Hey, not so fast! Don't you want some ice cream?”

“It's too hot, it'll melt,” Kakashi said, though he made no real effort to escape her grasp and continue to walk away.

“Then we'll just have to eat it fast.”

“I'd like to go,” Itachi said.

Mother pursed her lips; Itachi recognized that she was trying to suppress a smile. His sweet tooth was well known, although his parents did not often indulge him.

“See? That's three against one, Mikoto. Majority wins,” Kushina said triumphantly.

“I didn't agree to this,” Kakashi put in.

“We'll look away when you eat it, Kakashi. Don't worry.”

Kakashi scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine. It's bad luck to ignore a pregnant woman's ravings, isn't it?”

“I think you mean cravings, Kakashi-san,” Itachi said. He remembered that Father was always making sure to bring whatever strange or out of season food that Mother asked for while she was pregnant with Sasuke. Ice cream in the summer was hardly out of the ordinary.

Kushina laughed. “That's right, squirt.” She ruffled his hair, an action that Itachi usually detested when it came from one of his older cousins. This time, however, he found that he didn't dislike it.

“I don't know,” Mother hedged. “I think Sasuke's due for his nap...”

“It's fine if the three of us go, right?” Kushina asked, grinning widely. “Kakashi can walk Itachi home afterwards, if you're worried about him getting back all right.”

Mother wavered, clearly torn. Itachi didn't often ask for treats - he'd come to the conclusion that asking all the time would only be detrimental to his chances of actually being allowed said treat - and there was no real reason not to let him go.

Apart from Father's intense dislike of Kushina and Kakashi, of course.

“Please, Mother,” he said, widening his eyes a little bit like he'd seen other children do before.

She looked amused, which was hardly the reaction he had been aiming for. It made sense that she would see through him, though. “All right,” she sighed. “I suppose you may.”

Itachi smiled, pleased. “Thank you, Mother,” he said quietly.

“Have a good time,” Mother said, waving as she turned away.

As soon as Mother turned the corner, Kushina pumped her fist in the air, practically whooping with glee.

“All right! Let's go to that ice cream bar by the edge of town, you know the one, Kakashi!”

Itachi glanced up at the teen in time to see him roll his eye.

“This way,” he said. “Don't run too far ahead, sensei will murder me if Kushina gets injured chasing after you.”

“I wouldn't run ahead,” Itachi muttered, irked by the condescending treatment. He was used to it from adults, but Kakashi should understand.

“Hey! Hurry up!” Kushina shouted, already halfway down the street. “Stop slacking, Kakashi! Mikoto'll murder me if you give Itachi-kun your bad habits!”

Itachi trotted after her. Kushina was interesting, and he didn't know when he would get another chance to see her. He wanted to make the most of it now.

“Please don't push yourself for my sake, Kushina-san,” he said gravely. “Kakashi-san says Minato-san will murder him if you hurt yourself.”

“Hah, yeah right. Of course I'll be careful! But I'm not made of glass, you know!” She folded her hands over her belly, that faraway look that Itachi was used to seeing from when Mikoto was still pregnant with Sasuke appearing in her eyes.

“Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?” Itachi asked, half because he was curious and half because he had heard many people inquiring the same of his mother. It was, he thought, the thing that one asked an expecting mother.

“Nope,” Kushina said cheerfully. “I want to be surprised.”

Itachi nodded. He supposed that made sense. Of course, Father had insisted upon learning of Sasuke's sex before he was born.

“If it's a girl, I hope she inherits sensei's gentle manners. A loud-mouthed girl isn't cute at all,” Kakashi put in.

“What did you just say?!”

“Ah, Kushina-san, do you have any names picked out?” Itachi asked quickly.

“Hmph. For some reason Itachi-kun cares about whether you live or die. You should thank him, Kakashi.”

“It's all right. I'm just doing what any shinobi of Konoha would do.”

They both looked at him.

Itachi shifted slightly, stifling his first impulse to shrug. Shrugging was not dignified. “It's a shinobi's duty to protect their comrades, is it not? I'm not a shinobi yet, but I will be in a few years. Then we will be comrades,” he reasoned.

“Yeah, that's right! You're so smart, Itachi-kun.” It should have sounded condescending, but Itachi found that Kushina's tone was all sincerity, as far as he could tell.

Kakashi didn't say anything, but Itachi could tell that the teen was watching him surreptitiously.

“Anyway, if it's a boy, Minato and I were thinking we'd name him Naruto!”

“... Fishcake?” Itachi asked, bewildered, before he could stop himself.

“No! Well, I mean, yeah, but it's after Jiraiya's book! The Gutsy Ninja?”

“Itachi-kun might be a little young to have read that, Kushina,” Kakashi remarked.

“More like Fugaku wouldn't let him read something like that!” Kushina retorted. Her cheeks reddened and she cast a quick glance at Itachi. Perhaps the heat was getting to her.

“What is the book about?” Itachi asked, choosing to ignore her last exclamation. It would seem that Father's dislike of Kushina was mutual.

Kushina summarized the story, with occasional input from Kakashi and some pauses when Itachi asked for clarification; she finished just as they walked up to the ice cream shop.

It was a hole in the wall, a small, family-run convenience store that really made its business selling ice cream during the warmer months of the year. The interior wasn't packed, but there were a few people in line in front of them when they entered. It must have been a popular place if people were willing to risk venturing outside in this heat.

“Have you been before, Itachi-kun?” Kushina asked.

Itachi scanned the menu on the wall above the counter. He'd never seen so many different flavours; he hadn't even heard of some of the strange words. “No, I haven't.”

“Well, now you'll know what you've been missing,” Kushina said. “My favourite is the tiger flavour.”

“Mine is vanilla,” Itachi offered. “But there's so many, I think I'll try something new.”

“You definitely should,” Kushina agreed. “What's your favourite, Kakashi?”

“Orange sorbet,” he said.

“Laaaame,” Kushina scoffed. “That's not even real ice cream! It's barely sweet.”

Kakashi shrugged, apparently unbothered by her disapproval.

Itachi ordered cherry for himself when they reached the counter, remembering to thank Kushina when she paid for the treat.

“Don’t mention it, Itachi-kun,” Kushina said cheerfully. “It’s too bad there’s no ramen flavour, though.”

Itachi wrinkled his nose at the thought, and Kakashi scoffed.

“That’s disgusting,” the teen informed her.

“No, it would be awesome,” Kushina insisted as they walked towards the Hokage’s residence. Itachi contented himself with eating his melting ice cream before it could drip down, listening as Kushina boisterously went on about ramen, Kakashi making dubious noises and spurring her on further.

It was- louder than Itachi was accustomed to, but it wasn’t bad either.

* * *

Itachi opens his eyes, the taste of cherry ice cream on his tongue.

In the bed opposite him, Kisame slumbers on, oblivious.

The taste immediately sours as Itachi stares at the ceiling. He knows that it must be water damaged - the musty smell permeating the room is testament to that fact. But the dim light filtering through the blinds from the moon is not strong enough for his weakened eyes to make out the details.

The night is too hot. Even though he had folded the blanket at the foot of the bed and slept under the light sheet, he's still sweaty and uncomfortable.

Itachi stands and makes his way to the cramped closet of a bathroom. He doesn't turn the light on, not wanting to disturb Kisame's rest. No doubt it would only prompt his partner to ask him about insomnia, which is not a conversation that Itachi is remotely interested in having.

He splashes some (thankfully cold) water on his face and slicks his bangs back, squinting into the dirty mirror as the water drips off his face.

His reflection refuses to come into focus.


End file.
